


The Four Assassins of the Apocalypse

by Daegaer



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Weiß Kreuz
Genre: Anthropomorphic Personifications, Assassins, Humor, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-09-14
Updated: 2004-09-14
Packaged: 2017-10-23 03:52:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/246008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegaer/pseuds/Daegaer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four assassins meet four horsemen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Four Assassins of the Apocalypse

  
"Thank you, Mr Sable," Crawford said, shaking the thin man's hand firmly. "I think you'll find us perfectly acceptable associates."

"I'm sure," Sable said, raising an eyebrow at the argument being conducted at the far side of the room. "Carmine says --" He let his voice die away as the argument turned a corner.

"Ms Zuigiber is a --," Crawford searched for an appropriate term, "an old acquaintance."

"Yes," Sable murmured staring in fascination at the redheads kissing frantically. "I, er, she's not normally this -- demonstrative -- with humans, er, people." He frowned. "That extra weight doesn't suit her."

Crawford brushed his hands over his own slender body and privately agreed.

* * *

YOU DON'T LOOK ITALIAN.

"I'm not."

AND I'M PRETTY SURE YOU'RE NOT ACTUALLY A DEMON.

"I wouldn't be that sure."

SO . . . I'D ASK HOW THE ASSASSINATION BUSINESS IS GOING FOR YOU, BUT I ALREADY KNOW.

"I'm like you. I'm the last thing a lot of people see. Do you enjoy your work as much as I do?"

ER. WHAT EXACTLY DO YOU SEE WHEN YOU LOOK AT ME?

Farfarello smiled like a deranged and damaged angel. "Myself."

WHAT A FREAK, Death muttered, beating a hasty retreat.

* * *

Chalky White ran a finger along the cabinet's gleaming top, leaving a nasty smear of oil. He looked consideringly at the silent boy, who looked back at him with a vaguely amused expression.

"Aren't you a bit young to be an assassin?" he asked.

"Am I? Ask Crawford," the boy said in a placid voice.

"And you can really do this . . . stuff?" Chalky asked, waving his hands in the air and inadvertently knocking a carafe of red wine onto the carpet.

The boy looked at it and it floated back to its place on the cabinet. The wine stained the floor between them like blood. With a gentle smile he held out a hand. "Naoe Nagi," he said.

Chalky shook hands in astonishment. People tended not to want to touch him. He felt Nagi's placid air as a layer of suffocating oil over deep, dangerous water, a whole filthy sea of sharp and ragged waste.

Chalky breathed deeply, holding tight to Nagi's smaller hand. He'd never met a more beautiful human.

* * *

"I _hate_ you," Carmine said in a near shriek. "This gets worse every single day."

"Liebchen, it's not going to be forever," Schuldig said, making sure she had nothing sharp easily to hand.

Carmine went an unattractive pasty colour at the thought of "forever." Schuldig had, after all, a young man's firm belief in his own immortality. She moaned in absolute terror and tried to strangle him.

"Carmine," he croaked, "I know it's not easy for you, but look!" He pulled away and grabbed a bag up from the floor, tearing it open to reveal a large jar of pickled gherkins, a tub of chocolate ice cream and a canister of instant whipped cream. "See? I remembered!"

"Oh, _Schuldig_ ," she said, the rage turning to embarrassingly grateful tears. Sable had vetoed absolutely everything she'd wanted for tonight's dinner.

He teasingly held them out of reach until he got a kiss and she wrapped herself round him awkwardly and eagerly. Let Sable stare. What did she care what the skinny bastard thought? She wasn't just eating for one any more.


End file.
